


King's Counsel

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Getting Together, King Stannis, M/M, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: Stannis has won his crown, but (if his younger brother is to be believed) his mission is not yet complete -- Ser Davos' heart is still to be won.





	King's Counsel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jougetsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jougetsu/gifts).



> I hope you like this! I was more than happy to fulfill your request of something happy involving these three.

It was a hot, sunny, late summer day when Stannis announced to his assembled small council that there would be no coronation.

"Of course there will be a coronation." Renly was looking at Stannis in slack-jawed bewilderment. "You can't just skip it. It's part of being king."

"Can and will." Stannis turned his attention back to the ledger before him. "I have spent enough time, energy, and coin winning my crown to be secure enough in it that I don't need to have the High Septon place it on my head."

"Aye, and put to better use that coin could be," said Ser Aemon Estermont, Stannis and Renly's maternal uncle and Stannis' new master of ships. "We could do with some of the gold in Casterly Rock, if you would go in and take it." 

"The coronation is tradition," Mace Tyrell interjected. Stannis had been compelled to offer him a council position, and thus, he occupied that of master of coin, following Littlefinger's disappearance in the aftermath of Stannis' taking the city. Stannis neither knew nor cared where Baelish was, and Tyrell certainly had enough coin of his own. Stannis had not been happy about the man who'd besieged him for a year being on his small council, but Renly had insisted that it would seal the alliance. "You must enforce your legitimacy, Your Grace."

"I also don't need the High Septon to tell me I am the true king and no other."

"I believe Lord Tyrell is right," Grand Maester Pycelle said slowly. "A king must have a coronation. The gods wish it."

"Gods are my last concern." Why did those around him always insist on indebting him to the gods, when he was king for the fault of no one save Robert?

" _You_ may not need it, brother, but the people do." Renly's eyes snapped to Ser Davos, who was always small, quiet presence at the end of the table during council meetings. Stannis had hoped for more from his master of laws, after fifteen years of good counsel on Dragonstone, but the Onion Knight had thus far said but little. "Ser Davos! Do be so good as to tell my brother why he must attend his own coronation."

Davos bowed his head respectfully. "I wouldn't know, my lord, nor would I presume to tell His Grace what to do." 

"No, certainly not. But you are a common man, or you were. You know what the common people like."

"The common people do like to see their king," Davos admitted. "You might be well served, sire, to ride into the city and show yourself."

"Showing myself costs nothing," Stannis said. "Nothing but time, at any rate." Stannis surveyed the table, hoping he could get at least one more man on his side. Ser Barristan remained silent. No doubt he, too, would argue for tradition. "Must I really do this?"

"It seems you must," Renly said grimly. 

Stannis scowled. What was the use in being king if you still could not do as you pleased? "Fine," he snapped. "We will do it. On a budget of mine own devising." 

The men who were supposed to help him rule exchanged glances, but Stannis would not be moved. What was the point of being king if you still had to do nothing but the bidding of others?

His gaze fell on Ser Davos, who also had doubt in his eyes. He had always told Stannis the truth, even when he didn't want to hear it. Why was he being infuriatingly silent now? 

"If there must be some kind of party, you will plan it," he told Renly. He got to his feet, forcing the rest of the council to stand with him.

Renly smiled. "I wouldn't dream of allowing you to do it, Your Grace."

Stannis snorted irritably and left the room. Before closing the door behind him, he cast a glance back at Ser Davos, who was still looking down at the table.

**

Stannis took no part in the planning of his coronation. He was almost tempted to ask if it could be held without his presence. Renly could have his party, and Stannis could be left alone. 

It did not work out that way.

Stannis found himself primped and prodded, forced to rehearse, listen to sermons, and be fitted for clothes. 

At last, the long-dreaded day arrived. Stannis stood in the anteroom of the sept, waiting to process in. He felt ridiculous. Every stitch of clothes he had on was an extravagance, be it silk, velvet, or cloth of gold. The worst, of course, was the fur cloak. It fell to the floor and dragged behind him, an utter impracticality. 

But it had to be endured. How often in his life had Stannis gotten something he truly wanted? No matter the trappings, it was happening to him exactly as it was supposed to. Kings were supposed to have coronations, he admitted, and no one was challenging Stannis' legitimacy. 

He thought back to that day Renly had appeared on Dragonstone with the army to back up Stannis' evidence. All the letters in the world wouldn't have gotten Stannis the throne on their own. He knew men and how they operated now, after a lifetime of being slighted. Renly had gotten him his throne. 

He swallowed hard. He supposed that meant he had to humor him.

He sought out his brother in the assembling procession. Renly was laughing with Mace Tyrell, a fact which surprised Stannis because he knew how much Renly privately loathed the man. Was this the way one won allies? Stannis shuddered. He was glad he had a brother to win allies for him.

"You look very regal, sire," said Ser Davos. Stannis hadn't seen him approach.

"I look like a fool."

Davos smiled, making Stannis realize how long it had been since he'd had the chance to simply enjoy one of Davos' smiles. "No, sire. You look as befits a king."

The simple compliment made Stannis stand up a little straighter, though he had been inclined to slouch due to how uncomfortable he was in his finery. "I never took you for the sort to tell a king what he wants to hear, Davos."

Davos' smile widened. "I'm doing nothing of the sort, sire. You do look regal. You will be a fine king."

"Fine clothes don't make a fine king."

"Aye, I know." Davos gestured to his own clothes, a brocaded doublet of gray and silver. "Lord Renly was very generous in giving me this, but I hardly feel like myself. Perhaps you feel the same way. But you must appear before the people and be crowned, Your Grace, and when you do, you must be dressed like the people expect a king to dress."

Stannis' mouth turned downward. Davos was wise, of course. He should never have doubted him. 

"Then I shall endure it." He put his hand on Davos' shoulder, a spontaneous gesture, but he wanted to show his appreciation somehow. Davos' shoulder was thin beneath the velvet. "Thank you, Davos."

"Whenever you need me, sire."

Davos' words rang in his ears as they processed into the sept, Stannis preceded by his councilors, last of all his brother and Hand. 

He had long observed Robert being misled and lied to by those who attempted to curry favor with him (while rejecting Stannis' sound advice). He'd long known that he, Stannis, would not do this, but he couldn't ignore how rapidly the people he knew were changing. Mace Tyrell's bowing and scraping was absurd when he'd long regarded Stannis as an annoyance. His uncle, too, had always favored Robert, as though he expected Stannis to forget this now. 

There were two people—just two—who Stannis knew to be genuine. Renly, who couldn't disguise his intentions for all the world, and Davos, who had never had an ulterior motive in his life. 

He would need them. 

He had not asked for this life. However much he'd resented Robert, he had never wished to be king. He had revealed the truth because truth was their true ruler, but it had not been with a glad heart that he'd learned his brother had no legitimate issue. He remembered Robert's coronation, how well suited he'd seemed to all the pomp. Stannis' eyes scanned the seats for his councilors. Renly was beaming, though whether with pride for his brother or for his own new position, Stannis wasn't sure. Davos was nodding piously along with the septon as he listed all the traits the gods would supposedly instill in Stannis so he could rule the realm.

 _As though I do not already have them_ , he thought bitterly. 

At that precise moment, Davos caught his eye and smiled. It filled him with an inexplicable swell of confidence, so much that he did not dread it when the High Septon approached with Robert's crown and lowered it onto Stannis' head. 

**

"I'm proud of you, Stannis." 

"Oh?" Stannis looked up from his ledger. He was impressed to see Renly in his solar the day after the coronation ball. Half the court was still abed; Stannis assumed court society would be continuing unabated under his rule exactly as it had done under Robert's, and as long as Stannis wasn't forced to put in an appearance, he didn't care. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"For enduring your own coronation _and_ attending your own ball. You even _danced_ , Stannis." 

Stannis shrugged. It had been expected of him, and it had been just one dance. 

"You know," Renly went on, "I'm sure Lord Mace is entertaining all kinds of ideas now that the king has danced with his daughter." 

Stannis shrugged. "I don't care what sort of ideas he entertains." 

"Aye, because you have eyes for another." Stannis looked up again to see Renly smiling dangerously.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't think it didn't escape my notice, Stannis. Your eyes never left him all evening. I think you were even jealous when he danced with Lollys Stokeworth." 

Stannis had not been jealous. He had simply been proud at Davos' kindness toward the girl. "I don't know of whom you are speaking."

"Bollocks, Stannis. Don't act like this with _me_ of all people. A Hand is supposed to serve his king in all matters, and I am going to advise you in the matter of love." 

"And why, pray tell, would I need advising in that matter?" An image flashed into his mind of the torchlit hall, Stannis watching from the high table, as Davos danced with the plain, the shy, the widows and spinsters. It had been a sign of his good heart, and Stannis had given no thoughts to what it might be like to feel Davos' arms around _him_ as they moved through the steps. 

"It's plain as the nose on your face. You're in love with Ser Davos." 

"Of course I'm not in love with Ser Davos." The answer was immediate and instinctive, but he knew it would not convince Renly, who sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You are a terrible liar, Stannis. Probably a good quality in an honest king, but you really had better stop."

Stannis scowled. "Just because you are my brother and my Hand does not give you the right to disrespect me. I am your king, remember."

"Oh, I remember, Stannis. I also remember how isolating kingship can be."

Stannis remembered his own words. "Kings have no friends."

"I'm not your friend, Stannis. I'm your brother."

"And I appreciate your counsel. But I do not seek a lover on my own small council."

Renly gave a pitying sigh. "Lie to me all you like, Stannis. You aren't fooling me."

Stannis let the matter lie there, but he ought to have known they were far from finished.

**

Stannis couldn't sleep. It was too hot, he decided. He had been back and forth from the bed to the window all night, heat driving him to open it, fear of bad night air in the city driving him to shut it again. Now he lay on top of the covers, bed curtains thrown wide open, sweating with the window closed. It was surely past the hour of the kraken. Perhaps he ought to get up if there was no chance he would fall asleep.

He sat up. It wasn't the heat keeping him awake, but thoughts of Ser Davos. Thoughts of Ser Davos and what Renly had said.

He rolled onto his side. The idea was absurd. Even if Renly _was_ right about Stannis' feelings, there was no guarantee he could know the same to be true for Ser Davos. He wasn't going to take romantic advice from his little brother. Even if he did acknowledge Renly was the expert in the area. He was at least more experienced than Stannis which was an embarrassing thought about one's baby brother. 

He sat up. He needed to talk to Renly. Maybe that would relieve his mind. It would remind him of how foolish he was being—he was the _king_. He didn't have time to be concerned about… this. 

His mind began to drift to thoughts of Davos in the torchlight, still dressed in his fine clothes from the coronation. What would it be like to kiss him? Would his beard be soft? Would his fingers be rough against Stannis' skin?

No. Better to put the matter to rest. He got out of bed and dressed. He would set Renly straight about this matter once and for all.

He left his apartments without being stopped. He'd worked this far to avoid having a kingsguard stalk him day and night and it was especially beneficial now that he was darting about in the night like a fool. He slipped from Maegor's Holdfast and crossed the courtyard also without attracting attention. The Tower of the Hand loomed ahead of him in the dark and he climbed the stairs to Renly's quarters. As he did, he wondered what things would have been like if Robert had offered him the position. Would it have suited him? Would he have liked being Hand and living here? Would he have been able to save Robert's life better than Ned Stark could? 

There was no point in dwelling on it now. Stannis was king and the rest was in the past.

He knocked on the door to Renly's apartments but there was no answer. He opened the door. Renly wasn't there. 

Well, he supposed all that could be done was to wait. He settled onto the couch in Renly's sitting room to do just that. 

It was hours before Renly returned, looking as though he'd been out somewhere having fun. Stannis withheld his initial instinct for disapproval. He needed something more from Renly, and a confrontation might make him less willing to collaborate.

Renly stopped, having just seen Stannis for the first time. "Ah, Stannis," he said cheerfully. "What is it?" He was acting as though it was not at all unusual for Stannis to appear in his chambers in the middle of the night. 

"I need your help." The words slipped out before Stannis could stop himself. 

"Oh? With what?" 

"What would you do? If I said I needed help with…" He trailed off, unable to find the words. "The matter we discussed this afternoon."

"You cannot mean the shipping allowances." 

"No. The… other matter."

"Forgive me," Renly said, holding up his hand. "I must have had too much wine. I was out with Loras, Margaery, and some of our friends and—"

"I am in no mood for japes, Renly." He paused. "I was referring to Ser Davos."

"Oh. Ah." In the dim light from his candle, Stannis could see Renly's lips curve into a smile. "Why didn't you say so, Stannis? You were wise to come to me." He crossed the room and clapped a hand on Stannis' shoulder. "With me to help you, he will fall for you forthwith."

Stannis swallowed hard. He hoped he had made the right decision, rather than having been driven mad by his inability to sleep. "Fall for me?"

"Aye. We will effect a courtship that makes you irresistible." Renly was beaming. "Whatever it is that old smugglers are unable to resist, we shall make you into that."

Stannis swallowed hard. He hoped Renly had an accurate idea of what old smugglers were unable to resist.

** 

The next morning found them once again in Stannis' solar, though they were not engaged in work.

"All right." Renly stood outlined in front of the window, hands behind his back. "Where to begin your suit?" 

"This is not necessary," Stannis muttered.

" _You_ came to _me_ , Stannis. You asked me for help. How can you tell me now that it's not necessary?"

Stannis shifted uncomfortably. He didn't exactly _regret_ going to Renly, per se, but he wasn't sure it was a choice he would have made again in the cold light of day. But he did desire Davos, he was sure of that. And if Renly thought he might have a chance at success… 

"All right," he said, leaning back in his seat. "What is your first suggestion?"

"A love letter," Renly answered simply. "You must write him a missive sharing your feelings. Pour your soul onto the parchment—or my soul, rather, because I'll probably have to tell you what to say."

Stannis obediently reached for a quill and parchment. It was probably the least he could do after Renly had given him the army that had enabled him to secure his throne, he rationalized. No matter how much he might gripe about Renly's ingratiation into the family that had tried to starve them out of Storm's End. 

"Ser Davos," he said firmly, pen positioned over the paper, ready to begin. It was the sense of anticipation of productivity he'd always felt before beginning an essay for Maester Cressen's review. His hand would be perfect; he would impart all the facts he knew… 

"Stannis, are sending him a court summons? A military directive?" 

"No." 

"Then begin with a little more… feeling. And you're not going to sign it King of the Andals and all that, all right?"

"Then how would _you_ begin?" Stannis was already becoming annoyed with Renly's so-called help. 

"Well, you might begin a love letter with a little warmth and tenderness," Renly said. "Perhaps, 'my dear Davos'?" Stannis frowned before writing exactly this at the top of the page.

Renly began pacing. "My dear Davos… Don't write this, just let me think. 'Protocol dictates that I refrain from writing such a letter, but...'" 

Stannis' mouth curved downward into a frown. "But the intensity of my feelings compels me to make my confession." 

Renly stopped pacing. "Stannis, that's—" 

"I won't put it."

"No, it's good. It's very romantic." Renly regarded him suspiciously. "What else have you got?" 

"Nothing," he admitted sheepishly. "That had just seemed the right thing to say. I wanted him to know I always… regarded him."

"Well, it's a good start. Now, you might go through some of the qualities you like about him. What color are his eyes?" 

"Brown." 

"Hm," Renly said. 

"I think he knows he has brown eyes." 

"Well, you're supposed to compliment them. Poetically."

Stannis frowned. He hadn't generally been focused on Davos' eyes. 

"Well, there must be something else. Why else do you like him?"

Stannis sighed. How could he articulate how important Davos was to him? "He came to us, out of the goodness of his heart, when he knew we were suffering. He knew I would take my justice, he who had never been caught, and he came anyway, seeking no reward, because it was the right thing to do, to save men from starving, to save a child from starving." 

He leveled his gaze pointedly at Renly; it would do well for him to remember all that Davos had down for him before he made japes about Stannis' bedraggled old Onion Knight. "And he took his punishment without complaint or protest. He knew what was fair. Another man might have fought me." He remembered Renly in particular, sobbing and having to be pried from Stannis' arm so he could go and do that deed. He had not spoken to him for days, but he seemed to have forgotten it all fifteen years later.

"So he allowed you to chop off his fingertips," Renly said. "You're practically Florian and Jonquil." 

Stannis glowered at him. "You don't understand."

"Well, help me then." Renly grabbed a chair and dragged it over. "I remember those first days, you know. I'll never forget how that first onion tasted, though I'll never eat another as long as I live. But I don't quite know what happened after." 

Stannis leaned back in his seat, letting the breeze from the open window blow across his face. A pleasant calm washed over him as he thought of Davos. "He has always shown me immense loyalty. No man has ever been there for me when I needed him as Davos has. He is steadfast, Davos. Do you remember what he was like when he first came to us?" 

"A bit."

"And you know he has not changed. Another man might have had his head turned by newfound power, or having a lord's ear, or by all his time at court. Not Davos. He is as genuine as he has always been, and you will never find a more reasonable voice offering counsel. He does not shy away from telling me the truth, even when he knows I don't want to hear it." Stannis smiled. "He does not even fear making me angry when he does this." 

Renly nodded slowly. "What else?" 

Stannis frowned. Was that what had made him fall in love with the man, if indeed, he had fallen in love with him? "Like what?"

"Well," Renly said, "when I think of Ser Loras, I think of his passion in riding in the lists. His gallantry."

"Well, Davos doesn't do things such as that." In truth, Stannis like that. He liked that Davos' elevated social statues hadn't changed him. He was the same man, truly, as he had been when he was a common smuggler. "He is a good sailor, I suppose."

"But how does he inflame your passions?" 

"By being who he is." 

"But you can't write a _love letter_ about that. That's a letter of commendation from the king, not a confession of secret passions." 

"It is how I feel," Stannis said irritably.

"Well, write that, then. We'll think of something else." 

Stannis looked down at his parchment, then back up at Renly. He didn't know how he was supposed to confess to secret passions in front of his little brother. Then he dropped his pen. 

"Ser Davos is an unlettered man. I cannot write him a letter he cannot read."

"Then a poem perhaps? A song?"

"I do not sing." How could Renly possibly think a song would be a more palatable alternative to a love letter?

"No, I suppose you don't. And not much rhymes with onions, does it?" Renly frowned. "There must be something else."

Stannis leaned back in his chair, annoyed now. "I fail to see how any of this will help me."

"If you truly want to win his heart, you will need to show your appreciation. You can't do anything if you don't tell him how you feel."

Stannis frowned. "I don't—"

"—Need my help if you aren't going to do anything about it."

Stannis sighed. "All right. What else do you suggest?" He'd gotten himself into a corner; he was going to have to take Renly's next suggestion.

"Elevate him to a lordship. It makes no sense to have him be a mere knight and serve on the small council when all the others are lords. And maybe hold a tourney in his honor to celebrate the occasion."

Stannis' mouth dropped open. He instantly regretted his vow to take Renly's next suggestion. "A tourney?"

Renly shrugged. "I know it is not your style, brother, but it would be expected."

Stannis understood this. He didn't like it, but he understood it. There were some concessions to protocol a king had to make, and he needed Renly to remind him of that. 

"All right," he said. "Can I trust you to arrange it?" 

Renly grinned. "Say no more, Stannis. All you need do is put your thoughts to your love." 

As though it were that easy.

**

Davos did not particularly enjoy being in the capital. He hadn't enjoyed it when Stannis had been Master of Ships, but he had tolerated it because he didn't have much responsibility and because he had the strong sense Stannis had needed him. He had certainly needed Davos as a broody youth of twenty, but Davos wondered what good he could do for Stannis the king. He certainly was no adequate master of laws. Not when he could not read or write. He had been seeking a way since the coronation to tell Stannis he was no longer equipped to serve him; that he would be retiring to Cape Wrath to at last live on the lands that had lain empty since Stannis had awarded them to him.

He had not yet found the words, though, his guilt over abandoning Stannis continually at war with his guilt over remaining where he was unqualified. And then of course, there was the fact that he simply did not _want_ to leave Stannis, that for all his foolishness, he wanted to remain by his side even if they would never be anything more than king and councilor. 

These were the thoughts running through his mind as he climbed the stairs to Stannis' solar. He could not think of why he might have been summoned and he once more clutched the leather pouch he had long worn around his neck for luck. 

He took a bracing breath and knocked firmly on the door. 

"Come in."

Stannis was standing by the window, gazing out at the sea. 

"Your Grace?" Davos bowed. 

Stannis turned. He looked very distracted and Davos was about to ask if this was a bad time, when Stannis began speaking.

"Davos, you have served me ably for many years now. You were the first man I thought of when it came time to name my council and if I did not owe my brother, you would be my Hand."

"Your Hand, sire?" 

"Aye." Stannis nodded as though agreeing with himself. "You are worth a hundred of the men who might seek to replace you. I know you care little for lands and titles, but that is not the sort of world we live in."

Davos' stomach dropped. Was this a dismissal? Now that such a thing was imminent, he found he did not want to go. "Sire?"

"And thus I am compelled to offer you a lordship. If you are going to sit on my small council, you must have one. I name you Lord of the Rainwood." Stannis looked away, as though the next part embarrassed him. "And there will be a tourney held in your honor. Renly is already planning it."

"A tourney, sire?" Davos found he had fallen several steps behind. 

"Aye." There was a glint of something akin to amusement in Stannis' eye. "Rest assured it was not my idea."

Davos could not help but smile back at him. "I would never have dreamed it was Your Grace's idea." Then he remembered the situation. "I am honored by the offer, sire." 

"Good," Stannis said firmly. "Then we will have the tourney."

Davos swallowed hard. It was only a small consolation to know it hadn't been Stannis' idea. He would still have to face the event itself. 

Over the next few days, Davos watched as the tourney stands and tents were raised outside the city. He still could not fathom that it was all for him. What would Salladhor Saan say? He thought about all the old friends and fellow sailors he hadn't seen in years. How far he'd come since he'd known them. 

When he'd pledged his fealty to Stannis, he'd never expected to live at court, and when Robert had taken the throne, he'd never expected that Stannis himself would become king. He still wasn't confident he was fit for the position, but if Stannis needed him, he would stay.

The morning of the tourney dawned clear and humid, with nary a cloud in the blue skies that stretched broadly over the capital. Davos threw glances at Stannis as they rode out to the tourney ground. Why had the past few days rekindled those feelings he'd long tried to ignore? Davos shook his head and concentrated on guiding his horse over the beaten track. People crowded the way as they did when Stannis went anywhere. _And they said the common people would not love him_ , Davos thought. _They love any king who feeds them and keeps them safe._

He watched Stannis at the head of the line. He rode with shoulders thrown back, crowned head held high. Davos had never seen him so proud, and he looked as regal and handsome as he ever had. 

Davos smiled at his own foolishness. _Fancy the king handsome all you like, but he is still the king and you nothing more than an upjumped smuggler._

 __He garnered his fair share of stares, too, he noted. The story of the Onion Knight had spread since Stannis' ascension to the throne, and while Davos had been well-known at court under Robert's reign, he had become even more notorious now. He took a deep breath and lifted his shoulders, as though he could hide in his cloak.

Even after all his years at court, Davos had not come to appreciate tourneys. He understood that young people would always have their games, but he couldn't help but be reminded of his own youth spent scaling rigging and repairing sails. He'd had his amusement, too, of course, but watching armored knights ride at one another tended to make him nostalgic for an evening of mead and good music from a hornpipe. 

For one moment, he entertained a fantasy of running away to become a sailor again. He glanced over at Stannis. _Would he join me, I wonder_? A smile spread over his face. It was a foolish idea, but an entertaining one all the same. 

"Davos," Stannis said abruptly.

"Yes, sire?" 

"Are you bored?"

"Not at all!" Davos sat up straighter, embarrassed that his shifting attention had been noticed.

"Well, I am," Stannis said gruffly. "Would you… would you walk with me?" His voice was full of hesitation, as though he thought Davos might actually refuse him.

"Certainly, sire." Davos tried to reassure him with his answer, and they stood and climbed down from the box together. As the noise of the crowd faded to a dull roar above their heads, Davos welcomed the cool darkness of the ground below. It was comfortably apart from the action, and as Davos' eyes adjusted to the dark, he welcomed the relief from the heat and press of bodies.

"You don't have to pretend to like this sort of thing for my benefit, Davos," Stannis said.

Davos opened his mouth to protest, but then realized his own foolishness. "If you ever wish to depart a social function, sire, you need only to use me as an excuse. I would always be willing."

This drew from Stannis a curve of the mouth that was nearly a smile. "I shall keep that in mind." 

They walked without direction in mind, Stannis slowing his stride to allow Davos to keep pace.

"I once more want to reiterate my gratitude, Davos. All you have done for me these many years. I fear I have made but a dent in the debt I owe you."

Davos shook his head. "I truly need none of that, Your Grace. Only the knowledge that I have been of some help. I just wish I could do more."

"You already do plenty."

Davos shook his head. "I lack much when compared to the rest of your council."

"Mace Tyrell is a fool, my brother is one-and-twenty, my uncle does not like me…" 

"And they have more education than I ever will."

Stannis turned suddenly, dark blue eyes fixing firmly on him. "Is this all because you can't read?"

"Yes."

Stannis rolled his eyes. "That's no matter. If you want to learn, I'll teach you."

Davos stopped in his tracks. "You, sire?"

"Of course. Who else?"

Davos failed to come up with an alternate suggestion before he was forced to hurry to catch Stannis. "But do you have time, Your Grace?"

"I shall make time. What is the rest of my council for if not doing work for me?"

Davos supposed this was true, but something made him balk. 

"You do want to learn?" Stannis clarified.

"Of course I do." The prospect of learning to read was a daunting but tantalizing one. He didn't know how to feel about having Stannis help him, though. How could he impose on the king like that?

"Then the matter is settled. We will—" Stannis stopped abruptly and Davos ran into his back. In their path, beneath the stands, was a couple absorbed in an indelicate act. Neither had noticed them, but Stannis was staring, red-faced, as though he could not look away. Davos acted without thinking, if only to save the young people some embarrassment. 

"Come," he said softly by Stannis' ear, and took him by the elbow. Stannis came away with only gentle prodding. His face was burning and they walked together several more feet than was necessary before he spoke. 

"They ought not to—"

"They are only young once, sire." 

There was a long pause. "True," Stannis said. Their rapport seemed to be broken now. Davos suddenly realized he still had his hand in Stannis' elbow and he removed it quickly, hoping his face wasn't red. He could still feel the warmth of Stannis' arm even as they moved away. Eventually, their conversation returned to normal, but Davos couldn't help but perceive that something had changed. Stannis kept giving him searching looks, though he would look away when Davos met his eyes. 

** 

Stannis welcomed the distraction of teaching Davos to read. It allowed him to spend time with Davos while continuing to delay confessing his feelings. Instead of planning that, he had devoted the evening after the tourney to writing an alphabet for Davos to learn from, and it was with this that he presented himself at Davos' quarters the next evening. 

"Your Grace!" Davos opened the door, a look of genuine surprise on his face. "You needn't do this, truly."

"You want to learn, do you not?" Stannis cursed himself for not being able to greet the man he wanted for his lover more warmly. Impulsively, he seized his hand. "I want to teach you." 

Any protest he might have made died on Davos' lips. "Thank you, sire. I appreciate it." He squeezed Stannis' hand. 

They stood like that for a moment before Stannis withdrew. "Then let us begin."

He had been in the middle of drawing up the alphabet when Stannis had realized he hadn't the slightest idea how to teach someone to read. Was it even wise to start with the alphabet? If this wasn't the right approach, Davos made no protest. 

They moved slowly and carefully through the letters. Stannis realized it would not be wise to cover them all in one night, so they broke early so Davos could review what they'd learned. 

"You will be reading soon," he told him, when he noticed the twist of Davos' mouth as he worked to memorize the letters. 

Davos smiled sheepishly. "I know, sire. I ought to have known much work would go into it." He sighed. "I just hope it is within my capabilities."

"Of course it is. Any child can do it." Stannis paused, again cursing himself. Why could he not be gentle? "And you are more intelligent than any child."

Davos smiled. "Sometimes I think children had a better capacity for learning than men grown. Their minds are malleable while I have become old and set in my ways."

Stannis grunted. "No one is too old to make something of himself. He needs only to decide what he wishes to do it and do it."

"Wise words, sire." 

"They are true. Nothing is stopping you from learning to read but your own doubts." 

Davos looked down at the page spread out before them. "Yes," he said firmly. "That is quite true." He glanced up at Stannis, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. How Stannis wanted to kiss him. He could imagine doing it, could imagine the firm press of Davos' mouth. What had he been saying about how age was no barrier to a man's getting what he wanted? 

"Thank you, Your Grace," Davos said, breaking his reverie. "I will practice on my own and then be ready for our next lesson." His warm brown eyes seemed to hold the fervent hope that there would be a next lesson.

"Aye," Stannis said firmly. "I will be back in a few nights. Do not squander the time."

**

Davos threw himself into this new quest of learning to read, although if he was honest with himself, it was less out of a desire for self-improvement and more for Stannis' nearness. The fact of the matter was he savored the feeling of Stannis next to him almost as much—if not more—than he did the acquisition of knowledge. 

The arrangement dictated that Stannis sit beside him at the table and occasionally, they would brush together as Stannis reached across to point out something on the page. Each accidental contact set Davos' nerves aflame and threatened his concentration. But still, he managed to keep his composure. It would not do to go to pieces in front of the king, especially when Stannis was expending his valuable time in performing this service for Davos.

As the weeks passed, Davos became more comfortable in the king's presence, and perhaps it was his imagination, but Stannis seemed to loosen up, too. Every so often—just every so often—when he would glance Davos' way, there would be a smile on his lips.

"You are reading," Stannis declared one evening. Davos' head had been bent over the book for so long his eyes stung. "Listen to yourself."

Davos didn't know all of the words, but somehow, what had once been illegible scrawling on the pages of books had come to possess some sense of meaning. 

"See?" Stannis said triumphantly. "Don't doubt yourself. You are clearly capable of learning to read." 

Davos knew there was still a lot that lay ahead of him, but this seemed a moment to celebrate. He sat back in his chair, still unsure of how this moment had come about. He looked back at the book, half afraid that the words would have disappeared, that the text would once more have become inscrutable. He had looked at words for half his adult life, but only now did he actually recognize the letters, know their purpose. He turned the page. The next page held still more words, some of which he understood. 

"I can read some of it," he said dubiously.

"And that is the first hurdle." Stannis leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and contemplated Davos. "Once you learn the letters of the alphabet, the whole of reading becomes open to you. You need only sound out the words. For the most part." 

Davos supposed it to be more complicated than that (he had already met many words that were not spelled exactly as they ought to have been and he was not keen to try writing), but he welcomed Stannis' enthusiasm. "Thank you, sire. I cannot tell you what this means to me."

"No more than what you have done for me means." Stannis pushed himself to his feet and stretched. "I think you deserve a break, Davos. Come out and walk with me."

It had grown late while they had been at reading, and the castle was quiet. They walked the walls in peaceful silence, Davos pleased to breathe the fresh breeze from the sea after a long period cooped up inside. The stars themselves seemed to burn brighter for Davos' triumph.

"Davos, there's something I haven't told you." Stannis abruptly broke their companionable silence. 

"What is that, sire?" 

Stannis came to a stop, resting his hand on part of the wall. The city lay before them, seemingly quiet at night, but Davos knew it was full of the pulse of life. "I'm afraid we might soon be under siege."

Davos' stomach sank. That had been what he was afraid of, but he hadn't considered the possibility to be an urgent one because Stannis had said nothing. "Why did you say nothing before?"

"It was none of your concern." 

"But I am on your small council. Surely Your Grace trusts me with matters concerning the realm." He didn't actually believe Stannis was rejecting him, but he was hoping to get a better explanation out of him. They had spent enough time together lately that Davos thought he was at least owed that.

"I do." Stannis rubbed his chin, and Davos wished he had noticed the obvious signs of distress in his king. 

Davos stepped forward, stopping just short of laying his hand on Stannis' bicep. It seemed presumptuous. "And I would help where I can, sire."

"You will help me here." There was a long pause and Stannis turned to look him in the eyes. "I need you to be my voice of justice, Davos. I value that you are unsuited to war, and I won't have you muddying your hands with it." He reached out and squeezed Davos' fingers. Davos could hardly draw breath. He had never thought Stannis might kiss him, but he was now somewhat unsure of himself. If he did...

If he did, Davos was going to be ready for him. In the torchlight, Stannis' eyes seemed very dark and Davos could not read his intentions. 

Was he moving toward Davos? He couldn't tell, and he was saved from having to act by a guard directly below them calling the hour.

Stannis drew back, looking visibly uncomfortable. "It is late," he said. "I'm sure you are tired."

Davos wasn't tired; in fact, the opposite was true. Every nerve was crackling with awareness. "Aye, Your Grace. It is time I went to bed. Good night."

They parted, Davos returning to his quarters firm in the knowledge that he would do no such thing.

**

"Report, Stannis, if you please." 

Stannis looked up from the reports of his scouts. "I've had a raven from Harrenhal—"

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about Lord Davos."

There was an uncomfortable itching on the back of Stannis' neck. Somehow he did not want to admit to Renly that he'd made no progress "I've been teaching him to read."

"Teaching him to read?" Renly's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Is _that_ what you're doing every night in his quarters?"

Stannis frowned. "You noticed?" 

"I noticed because I am your meddlesome younger brother. Your concerns are my concerns."

Stannis searched Renly's expression for mockery but found none. "Why do you help me when I ignored you over all these years?"

Renly smiled. "You didn't ignore me, Stannis. You were there for me until I pushed you away." 

Stannis tried to reconcile Renly's view of their history with his own. "I was a man grown. It was wrong of me to resent a child."

Renly shrugged. "And I was a child who resented his elder brother. I wouldn't have appreciated your guidance if you'd been there to give it." 

"And what about now?"

Renly grinned. "As your Hand, I seem to be in the main position of dispensing advice at the moment." He paused, looking more sober than Stannis had ever seen him before. "Besides, Stannis, you're my brother. I want you to be happy, and I have seen that Lord Davos does make you happy. If only you would stop denying yourself that happiness."

Stannis didn't quite know how Renly could perceive this, but he couldn't deny it. He pressed his lips together, remembering how close he had come to kissing Davos. Why had he been unable to close that distance? He sighed. "You may be right. I will never be able to tell him how I feel." 

"And why not?"

"Because I seem to be incapable of it." He related his tale of all the time he'd lately spent with Davos and how they remained distant.

Renly shook his head sadly. "I regret to tell you, Stannis, that I can only give you so much advice before you must take initiative yourself. Look at you! You are a king; you've won your crown! Surely you can take Lord Davos if you wish."

"If _he_ wishes," Stannis corrected.

"And do you think he wishes?" 

Stannis remembered again that night on the battlements. Davos had seemed so close. Had he drawn himself in to Stannis? Had he been preparing to be kissed? "I think so," he murmured. 

"Then there you have it." Renly leaned back in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest as though the matter were settled. "Strike when the next opportunity presents itself."

"This is not the opportunity with which I am presently concerned." As much as it pained him to leave off talk of Davos, they had more pressing matters threatening the realm. "We must talk of the war."

For the next hour, Stannis was able to engage Renly in a serious conversation of defense strategy, without a single jape about Stannis' love life, and Stannis found himself impressed. Where had this brother come from? Or had he always been there, waiting for Stannis to notice him?

"Is this truly wise?" he asked Renly as they descended the stairs to the great hall to take their supper. "To remain here in the capital and wait for the Lannisters to come to us?"

"Better than to abandon your throne. I know you don't like the idea of undergoing a siege, but you will show your strength in your resistance."

Stannis sighed. "You might be right."

Renly beamed. "Of course I'm right." 

The next few days were taken up with preparations for the arrival of the Lannister army. Stannis was nervous about returning to the field of battle. At least a well-fortified city was a better place to dig in for a siege than one castle, but he could not put aside his memories of fifteen years before, the gnawing hunger, how unhealthy little Renly had looked.

From there, however, his mind turned to the man who had been their savior in that time.

He would do this, he vowed. Before the battle began, before he put his energy to the defense of the city. 

It was easier said than done, however. The rumors that swirled about the capital had reached the smallfolk and Stannis needed to be seen on the walls, supervising his men. If people saw the king hard at work, Renly assured him, they would be reassured. Stannis could only guess at the truth of that, but he could see the nervousness on the faces of the people as he rode to and from the Red Keep. 

Each day was like a bated breath as Stannis waited for word from his scouts that the army's arrival was imminent. Each day, he hoped their preparations had been enough. 

And each day, he vowed to corner Davos, but each day, he failed to do so.

**

Davos was awakened before dawn one morning by the shouting of guards outside his window. He lay blearily for a moment before collecting his wits. Were they under attack? He pushed back the covers and jumped out of bed. He could see men running back and forth in the courtyard. Davos dressed quickly and hurried to Maegor's Holdfast. Surely Stannis was already aware, but he had to know if he could be of any help.

He was no warrior, but there must be _something_ he could do. He had nearly reached the top of the stairs when he nearly ran headlong into Stannis coming down them. Stannis' hands shot out to steady him, and they lingered on Davos' shoulders perhaps longer than was necessary to prevent Davos from falling. 

"They are coming," Stannis said unnecessarily. "The gates are closed. The men are ready. We have the City Watch, we have the full forces of the Reach and the Stormlands…"

"It will be enough." Davos touched Stannis' arm gingerly to make him relax. "We will be fine, sire. I have faith."

"Faith," said Stannis bitterly. "I have faith in fire, steel, and boiling oil."

Davos smiled. "And I have faith in you."

"Let us hope it is not misplaced." Stannis began to relax. "Davos, I—" 

Whatever he was going to say was lost in the shouting as more defenders ran down the stairs. 

"I must go." Stannis looked pained, his hands seemed to be lost as they moved from Davos' shoulders down his arms. 

"I understand, sire." 

Stannis held his gaze for a long time. Davos was almost at the point of taking matters into his own hands, but he knew he would never be able to make the first move. Not with the king. Instead, he reached up and removed the leather pouch from around his neck. 

"You will need luck, sire, to hold the city. Borrow mine."

Stannis seemed to balk, and Davos instantly regretted it. What king would wear smuggler's bones around his neck? But that, evidently, had not been the reason for his hesitation.

"This is yours. You need this."

"Then Your Grace must bring it back to me. When the city is saved and the enemy is defeated."

This was good enough for Stannis. He nodded. "I shall guard it well." He stooped to let Davos hang it around his neck. 

"Now, tell me what else I can do," Davos said, though he thought he already knew the answer.

"Stay here," Stannis said firmly. "As I said, you are unsuited for war. You would be a hindrance."

Davos had to smile. _And a worry._ "I understand, Your Grace. Take care."

Stannis nodded. "I will be back." There was an awkward pause where Davos hoped he might at last do what he'd long been hoping Stannis would do, but instead he simply stepped past Davos to head down the stairs. Davos watched his retreating back. Before he curved out of sight, Stannis stopped and turned round to look at him once more. Then he was gone. 

Davos waited until the sounds of men arming had faded before descending the stairs himself. Without stopping to look at what signs of battle he might have been able to see, Davos crossed the courtyard and went into the sept.

Inside, he had the good fortune to find himself alone. He felt strangely unclothed without the pouch around his neck. He had a feeling Stannis did not actually believe in luck, but it somehow comforted Davos to know his king had it, a token to ride into battle with. He cast a wry smile at the statue of the Maiden. "Perhaps I should pray to you," he said. "For love."

Instead, though, he crossed the floor and knelt before the Smith. He would no doubt make the circle, but he would start here. If any god suited Stannis, it was this one. 

**

Stannis had been to Davos' rooms and then, on a whim, his own rooms. The last place he dragged himself, nearly dead on his feet as he was, was the sept. If Davos was not here, he would have to continue searching for him in the morning.

But that would not be necessary. 

Davos sat in one of the rear pews, his head bowed. Stannis stopped in the doorway, loath to disturb the solitude of the sept, a place he had always felt uncomfortable and unwelcome. Davos was either deeply in prayer, or he was asleep, and the small snuffling sound gave Stannis his answer. He took a step forward, his boot scraping stone. 

Davos jerked upright and spun around. "Your Grace!" He jumped to his feet, and at the last moment, remembered to bow. "What has happened?"

"The city is saved. The enemy is defeated. Lord Tywin is slain, his army surrendered." It sounded easy when said like that, but it had been far from it. The particulars, however, were not Davos' concern. There would be time for that later. "They did not breach the walls."

"Wonderful news, sire." Davos approached slowly, and Stannis remembered that morning, a lifetime ago, when he had come so close to doing what he had vowed to do for weeks. _You are a fool_ , he said. _Renly was right. I do deny myself happiness._

"I must return this to you." He took the pouch from around his neck and held it out to Davos. Rather than take it from him, Davos waited expectantly for Stannis to put it on himself. He did so gingerly, afraid that if he touched any part of Davos, even accidentally, his true feelings might be betrayed. Finally, the pouch was back where it belonged and Stannis lifted Davos' hair free of the cord. 

He need not have worried about his feelings being betrayed, for next he knew, Davos had reached for his face and pulled him down into a kiss. Stannis found himself quite incapable of responding, but he knew he had to, lest Davos believe he had done wrong somehow, had been too presumptuous. 

He pulled Davos close, despite the fact that he was covered head to toe in the muck and mire of battle, not that Davos seemed to mind, as he made a little satisfied noise that Stannis was now determined to elicit again. 

Once they had left off kissing, they could scarcely look at one another a moment before resuming it again. All thoughts save Davos were absent from Stannis' mind. He might not have just won a pitched battle for his very throne. He might not have been a king at all. All that mattered was that he was a man Davos Seaworth saw fit to kiss and that was a far greater honor than any other he had been afforded by the mere accident of being born a year and some months after Robert.

"Sire," Davos said at last. Stannis could not tell how much time had passed. He knew only that Davos looked more wanton than he had any business looking, the dim candlelight of the sept making his eyes look darker, his lips more swollen. "I believe it would be prudent to remove ourselves."

Stannis nodded his agreement. "You speak wisdom as always, my lord." 

Davos smiled. "Would your bedchamber be more suitable, sire?"

"I should say so." Stannis reached for Davos' arm, though he did not need to guide him along the way. 

Stannis didn't know what their objective was—just privacy, perhaps. As much as he'd anticipated going to bed with Davos, he did not think he had the energy to devote to it now. Going to sleep next to Davos, however, and waking up beside him the next morning, seemed a far more pleasant prospect.

"Is there no more to tell, sire?" Davos asked. "About the battle?"

The last thing Stannis wished to do was talk of battle when he had so lately survived it. "In time," he said. "When our council is assembled, there will be decisions to make. Right now, however, I am only interested in you."

Davos' face flushed. "May I be so bold as to ask a question, sire?" 

"Considering you have been so bold as to kiss me, I daresay a question would be immaterial."

"What prompted this, Your Grace?" 

"This?" Stannis looked down at their joined arms. "You would not believe me if I told you."

"Needless to say I have long harbored such feelings. I was, at last, spurred to act upon them."

They came to Stannis' apartments and he opened the door, shepherding Davos through. "I tell you would not believe it of me."

"I have found much unbelievable to be true in my life, sire. I should like to be the judge of that myself."

Stannis sighed. Now he would be forced to admit it out loud and discuss it. "It was Renly."

"Renly!" Davos seemed genuinely shocked. 

"Absurd, is it not?" Stannis led the way into his bedroom. He was already tired of discussing this matter with Davos. He longed to talk of something else—or do no talking at all. "He decided it fell under the purview of Hand of the King to advise his liege on love."

To Stannis' surprise, Davos began to laugh. "Truly?"

"He was too presumptuous." 

Davos laid his hand on Stannis' arm. "Perhaps, sire, but he helped you, did he not?"

Stannis snorted. "Hardly." He pulled Davos close and kissed his temple. "I followed but little of his advice. He despaired of my ever confessing my feelings to you." 

Davos smiled. "Regardless, you must pass on my appreciation if Lord Renly had any sort of hand in… this." He stroked the back of Stannis' head, drawing him into another kiss. 

"I may," Stannis allowed. He supposed he would be compelled to report to Renly on this matter, else he would continue to dispense his counsel, worthless or no. He half fancied Renly would actually be pleased by this development (and Stannis was somewhat satisfied to have done it his own way, with nary a poem or song to be had).

But that could wait. All of it could wait. There was much in the future—the consequences of defeating the one threat to his crown, a realm to rule, a brother to deal with, more reading lessons—but the future began tomorrow. Right now, his sole concern was Davos, just as it by rights always ought to have been.

He longed for nothing else.


End file.
